


smiling at the stars

by Jackaboi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Chara has Vitiligo, Fear, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackaboi/pseuds/Jackaboi
Summary: I hit the ground with a jarring thud. My head hurts.(Of course it does. You jumped into a mountain cavern.)(And survived.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	smiling at the stars

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy! This is a rewrite of one of my other stories, In the Dark. Be careful reading this, it gets pretty dark.

I hit the ground with a jarring thud. My head hurts. 

(Of course it does. You jumped into a mountain cavern.) 

(And survived.)

I wait for death. Death that, as I lay there, sobbing, screaming, clawing at my throat, nails digging into already bruised flesh, I know will never come.

I stop trying to rip my throat out. I’m just there. After a while, I’m not crying anymore. Just numb.

I should be dead.

I sit up slowly, but the world still spins.

I breathe out, pain spiking through my ribs. I can’t do it- I don’t want to. I lay back down, and stare at the trickle of light. It takes me a second to realize I’m laying on flowers, not stone. They probably broke my fall. If that’s possible.

Maybe I’ll just lay here until I rot away. No one knows where I am. No one cares.

(BANG! Your hands shake.)

(He’s dead.)

“No…” I whisper, clutching at my head.

(The puddle of red spreads to your socks.)

“Stop it!” I’m shouting, at everyone, or no one. Nothing. “Fuck!” 

I scramble up and find a cold stone wall, leaning my forehead against it, panting.

“That’s not a very nice word!” I jump and turn around. No one’s… The flowers, I recognize Buttercups, are smushed in a vague circle. Except one.

(You don’t like this.)

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower! What’s your name?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. The flower has a face, a mouth, and it’s talking.

(Maybe you are dead?)

“Not very talkative, are you? Hm. You must be new to the Underground. Someone ought to show you around, give you some tips… I guess little old me will have to do!”

I’m not focused as it- He? talks. Maybe I have a concussion. Things get hazy. I try to sit down, but it’s more like a slide down the wall. Dots begin to swirl in my vision. The flower scoots closer, looking down at me with concern.

(You know that expression. He’s faking.)

“Here, let me help!”

I shake my head, unwilling to speak, and try to scoot away.

Everything spins, the world darkens, there’s a tugging at my chest- Red. Red red red red red- Pain. 

I breathe out. If I die, at least I’m dead-

It’s loud, loud, loud for a moment, then the flower disappears as a ball of flames shoot across my vision.

“Are you OK?” Hands touch me- I shove them off and scramble away. “Do not be afraid! I am Toriel, Caretaker of the Ruins. I can help.”

It’s hazy, the world’s hazy, black dots swirling. They get bigger, and then-

(She’s dragging you, yelling, “You’re going in there and you’re not coming out until you know your place!”)

(“No! No, please, I didn’t do anything wrong!”)

(“You were supposed to stay quiet, upstairs, while we had guests. Not come down and start an argument! They must think we’re barbarians, can’t control our daughter!”)

(“I’m not your-”)

(“Yes, you are, you are female, you have a vagina, and you’re going to stay in the basement until you remember it!” The key rattles, the door creaks open. She shoves you down. You trip and land hard on your hands and knees.)

(“Please, please, don’t leave me down here!” You’re begging.)

(The door slams and locks.)

I wake with a gasp, sitting up too fast. I’m alone in a dark room, sitting in a plush bed with old quilts. There’s a kitchen chair at the end of the bed, clothes folded neatly. My eyes widen, and a hand flies to my neck. The ratty, old turtleneck is gone, my skin is bare.

I scramble out of bed, snatching my sweater from the chair. I tug it on.

I exhale and sink to the ground.

“Hey, you OK?”

(Nothing’s ok.)

I jump and turn. There’s a kid, teen, sitting in the middle of the floor. They have red hair, a green and yellow sweater. Their eyes are downcast and there’s something wrong with their skin… 

I shrug and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Oh. Sorry.” 

Footsteps reverberate through the floorboards and there’s a knock at the door.

(You hear his footsteps. The door creaks as he unlocks it. His shoes pound on the steps.)

(You tremble in the hollow under the stairs.)

I panic, dropping all the way to the floor and scooting under the bed, trying not to pant. 

“Hey, wait!” The kid leans over to see me. The door opens.

“My child? You did not leave the room, did you? Hm…” I hear someone walk further in, and stare when their feet enter my view. Like a dogs’, it was furred and clawed. The creature kneels down- I scoot further back, my spine pressing to the wall- “Hello.”

The face that appears is soft, and long. If I had to guess an animal, I’d say goat. It even has horns. “I am Toriel. Will you come out? It’s very dusty under there.”

I shake my head, though it will make no difference. She’s probably going to drag me out.

“All right.” She stands up and is gone, along with the kid.

It takes a minute, but then there’s another knock. She comes back in, turns on a light, and kneels back down. “I have brought you some pie- Cinnamon Butterscotch. Would you like some?”

I haven’t eaten in forever. 

(Your throat hurts, your fingernails scraping the back of it. You gag, then throw up harshly into the toilet.)

(You know she can hear you, she just doesn’t care.) 

(The walls in your apartment are deathly thin- just like you.)

I slide out and keep my eyes down. In the light I can tell my clothes have been washed, though, in vain, as I’m now covered in dust. My hair, in need of a cut, falls into my eyes.

“Here.” Sitting on her heels, the woman? Slides a plate halfway between us. 

I pull in closer, using the fork to cut a small piece. I glance up enough to see the woman smile at me. I bring the fork to my mouth. 

It’s too sweet. I gag, but swallow.

“Are you alright?”

I push the plate away, then stand. I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I could go back and stop my mom from throwing my binder away. Go back and take it off ten minutes before. Go back and run away before everything went to hell. 

“Are you going to finish?” 

I shrug and wait for her to say something else. She stands. “Do you want to come run errands with me? I must go to the store. Maybe we could pick up some clothes for you?”

I focus on looking for the other kid. Then stare at the floor.

“OK. Let’s go out into the living room, and I’ll look at your head first. You had a nasty fall.” She holds out a hand, but I don’t take it. I let her lead the way out, into the brightly lit hallway. “This way, young one.” Through the landing, a stairway to somewhere, and to a room with a table, one chair missing, and an easy chair.

She pulls out one of the chairs from the table, beckoning me over. “Sit.” 

I do so, my hips jutting into the seat, being swamped by its size. My thighs don’t touch. I keep my head down. I feel gentle fingers sift through my hair, some sort of paste being applied. Then Toriel comes around in front of me and tips my head up.

“I need to explain a few things before we leave, and ask you some questions.” I look away but don’t protest. “With you in the ruins, and being a child, someone needs to be your guardian. I am taking that role. You are not able to return to the surface. The creatures here are Monsters. You may have heard the legend?”

(Of course.)

(That was your favorite nursery rhyme, fairytale.)

(Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS.)

(One day, war broke out between the two races.) 

(The wicked monsters were vain, and wanted more from the humans than what they could provide.)

(After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell.)

(The humans were safe, and free.)

(But it wasn’t real.)

I nod, my brow furrowing. “I’m afraid I don’t know how accurate the tales are, but it is based on truth. We are the last of the monsters. You are the first human to fall here in a long, long time.”

This is insane. It’s crazy. Monsters aren’t real. They can’t be!

But- At least I’m free?

(White walls and doctors in my face.)

(Shouting and screaming, friends with secrets, liars with stories.)

(A room all to myself, nurses checking in every 15 minutes.)

(An IV. A tube down my throat.)

(Hands- hands- hands-)

(Discharge. Home. Gone.)

No more worries. At least now, she can’t follow. That was always the plan, wasn’t it?

Toriel was still talking. “-Monsters work in a different way than humans. We are based off magic, with a heavy focus on our souls. They project and form our physical bodies. When we die, we fade to dusk. We are much more fragile than humans, so if you encounter one, you must be very careful. Bring up a conversation, and talk to them until I can get to you!”

I don’t talk very often. I don’t think her method will work. But there’s no way I’m going to hurt another living creature ever again.

(BANG! Your hands shake.)

(He’s dead.)

(The puddle of red spreads to your socks.)

My hands shake.

“Now, before we leave, I need to know your name.” She leans down to look in my eyes.

I don’t answer. I don’t look away.

“OK, that’s alright. You may tell me when you are comfortable. Let us leave.” She stops, then giggles, “Whoops! Lettuce leaves, let us leave.”

I try to smile at her. She gets up and so do I, heading to the door. 

“Hm. We must get you a jacket, that sweater does not seem very thick...”

What? No! No, I have to keep the sweater, it’s all I have left of- My arms are crossed harshly across my chest, clutching the sleeves of my turtle neck.

“Do not worry, you will keep the sweater! I would never force you to do something you do not wish to.”

(You are shoved to the cold hard ground, the back of your head hitting the concrete of the basement.)

I swallow, and loosen my grip.

As we walk, I try to remember our path, but my memory was never very good. Soon the mental map I’m building turned into a four year old’s scribble drawing. But it didn’t matter, as the buildings begin to rise in the distance. 

They’re old. Tilted, falling, broken. Only a few of the buildings have light in the windows, and less even have windows. Toriel finally enters a store, and picks out flour, sugar, and a few spices. Then we head next door.

Toriel pushes vaguely at my elbow. “Go ahead, my child. Pick out some things you like!”

I tuck my arms closer to my chest and glance around. It’s full of stuff from above, stuff that must’ve fallen.

Books, toys, clothes, shoes… 

I’ve never liked anything. I liked- But it didn’t matter.

(You’re young.) 

(Someone’s holding your hand.)

(“I’ll come back for you.”)

(“Promise?”)

_“Promise?”_

(“I promise.”)

I’ve never liked anything. My mom always bought everything for me. My hands are shaking. I want to cry. 

I don’t.

Think logically. New shoes, jacket, maybe a scarf? I think about the turtleneck, hiding my sins. Unconsciously, I tug it up. 

I freeze. She’d- Toriel- I’d woken up without the sweater on which meant she saw she saw she _saw._

I need to get out of here.

I turn, and run.

(You turn, and run.)

I’m lost, laying in an alley, tear tracks on my face. I wonder if any of these buildings are tall enough to-

“Stop it. Don’t think like that.”

I snap up, my gaze locking onto the teen from earlier. 

“I never told you my name. I’m Chara.”

I glance down and back up.

“And you are?”

I clear my throat and mumble.

“I didn’t get that.”

I stand up. They’re taller than me, just by an inch or so. My voice is harsh and dry. “Leave me alone.” I turn and begin to walk away.

“Hi, leave me alone. Nice to meet you.” 

“SHUT UP!” I turn and scream, clenching my hands.

(“SHUT UP!”)

(Come back, please, no- You’re scared. Alone.)

(Gone. Gone.)

I stand panting. They’re gone. “Come back.” I whisper. A hand drops on my shoulder, and I yelp and jump back.

“My child! I found you.” Toriel bends down and hugs me. My arms are stiff by my side, and I can’t move. “Shall we go home?”

Home.

I take a deep breath. Let it out.“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment, or kudos. Thanks!
> 
> Be safe!! :)


End file.
